Love and lust, but no sex

Sat here in my too tight jeans, thinking about the smell of my sheets; I perused the poemhunter. I reviewed my favourite poem by Hart and investigated poems on the topic of murder. Having written one on the murder of an old friend; it is a topic that interests me. I found a new poet to pursue who is aptly named Mark Slaughter. Unfortunately my name does not lend itself to such ironic futures.

After reading about the blade, I sought out poems about the shaft. Much to my surprise under the topics index one may find love and lust, but no sex. This disturbs me. It’s a topic that occupies my pen frequently. Are poets and fans of poetry supposed to be too sensitive to read and write clearly on this basic human function? Does it have to be covered with other words, hidden in the semantics of lesser prose? Sex, Sex, sex- see it didn’t burn your eyes out or blacken your soul.

Work Ethic and Me

I love my job. If I was asked to do this pro-bono I would. But today I have run straight into the one part of my job I dislike: the lack of work ethic in my co-worker.

The argument he makes is that we don't get paid enough to do good work on this project. That his good work is worth more than what he is currently being paid. For me, no matter what the wage is, I take pride in the work I am doing and do the best job that I can.

As a teacher, I did not think that my students who paid me 300 baht deserved any less of an education than those that paid me 1000. If anything, they deserved more for they were spending what little free income they had to try to better themselves.

In addition to being cast as a rube for working hard for $10 an hour I was also told that the work which I had done was shallow and would take said co-worker a week to do that same work which has taken me 3 months.

This is my drama for the day. Funnily enough, when I was in Thailand I often heard my fellow expats complain about the work ethic of the Thais. I'll have to admit I was occasionally one of the complainers. But now that I am home I see that it is not just a Thai waitress that will give you a glass with a lipstick smudge; it's the whole world.

Triple T's: The Tired Thirties

I recently read that most women consider their thirties the decade in which they would best describe themselves as TIRED. I always feel tired. I would need to drink 10 cups of coffee per day to not feel tired.
In the past most people would have called me energetic; often to the point of being hyper. I don't know whether to blame it on the children or my age, but now hyper is out of my repertoire.
I hate being tired- so much so that I banned it from my spoken vocabulary for a time. In the end I had to suspend the banishment because there was just no other word to use.
I used to have dreams of raising children with instructive, educational games and organized home based lessons in a second language. Now I am just happy if the food gets on the table 3 times a day.
I have the mother's guilt that there is never enough time to spend with my kids. And I have spent most of the past 5 years at home. It's never enough. I rarely feel like I have the time to enjoy them and that is something I regret but I just don't have the energy for it.